


over my head

by Val_Creative



Series: IT Movies Fic-Palooza 2019 [28]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Adult Bill Denbrough, Adults, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bill Denbrough Doesn't Stutter, Canon Gay Character, Explicit Language, Fraternities & Sororities, Humor, Memory Loss, Partial Nudity, Richie Tozier Flirts, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:40:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20884064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: Meet-Cute AU/Nobody Remembers Each Other AU. Bill heads out to the Midwest during his break to visit his friend from a different university and he happens to run into Party Animal!Richie.





	over my head

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alienjack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienjack/gifts).

> Requested by alienjack: "bill/richie college au? a meet-cute of some kind." I kinda loved this. Not gonna lie. Any thoughts/comments are deeply welcomed! 
> 
> ((Want a request for IT? I'm doing 100-1000 word fics of any friendship or romantic ship + any prompt until I feel like quitting. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a friendship or romantic ship + prompt. You need to specify if you want SFW or NSFW (for 18+ readers only). Please check [Full Rules](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1478582). The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))

*

During a semester break in Maine, Bill visits his friend studying out in University of Nebraska.

They met each other through an online writing group, bonding over the works of Mary Shelley and Shirley Jackson. They both lost a family member while they were young. Her five-year-old sister died of epilepsy when Bill's friend had been seven. Completely tore her family apart. 

She claims to be a lesbian and _definitely_ isn't looking for a hookup with him. Bill has no problem with that.

(That's not why he accepted her invitation in the first place—and, no, Bill really doesn't wanna think about Maine right now.)

Bill's friend lives at the sorority house Alpha Delta Pi, having pledged early. He soon discovers that they're in the middle of a wild Saturday night. 

Neon yellow, strobing lights. Roaring music. Bubble machines blowing rapidly with the aid of nearby, yellow-and-green ribboned fans. Bill enters through the front doors, dumbstruck by the sight of a huge, unlit candlestick-chandelier and all of the underwear dangling from it. 

Panties, bikini-cut, thongs, G-strings, men's boxers… in every color of the rainbow…

"C'mon! Hand 'em over!"

A man in geometric-patterned swim trunks blocks him, waving a hand impatiently.

"Excuse me?" Bill asks, frowning.

"Your long johns, dude. Spankies. Undergarments," he rattles off. "It's the price of admission."

Bill's friend pops up around Bill, smiling prettily. 

"He's just visiting, Jacob!" she trills, winking and puckering her lipgloss-shiny mouth into an air kiss. The man grumbles, but reddens at her show of affection, turning away. "Hey, Denbrough," Bill's friend greets him. She's lowered the fake-enthusiasm from her voice, looking more genuinely happy while leaning in to hug Bill.

"Hey," Bill says, smiling and hugging her back. After a moment, he realizes _everyone_ must be walking around without underwear.

Including her and Jacob.

While she's explaining to Bill which upstairs room is hers, a guy bounces against Bill's shoulder, making impact as he rushes by. He's shirtless and in an opened, fleecy gray bathrobe. Funky-round kaleidoscopic sunglasses and a Dolly Parton blonde wing. An asymmetrical, coral-colored skirt so gauzy that Bill can see the guy's balls and his cock flopping around.

"_Scuse me, dawwrlin_'!" The guy drawls this out in a Voice that Bill can't identify, like an apology, hefting up his boombox. His scrawny, lily white ass swaying as he lifts his robe and dramatically throws it up. "S_tuff ta beeeeehhh! People ta dooooo_!"

"That's Richie," Bill's friend says, pealing out laughter. "He can drive you to the nuthouse and back, but Richie's alright."

Bill finally tears his gaze away, letting out an embarrassed chuckle.

Oh boy.

*

It's been two years since Bill enrolled in his local college in Maine. He's a C plus student who gets Bs.

Few months ago, Bill wrote a story called "The Dark" and his professor flunked it. Called it "pulp crap" and criticized Bill for "treating too preciously" as a piece of work. Bill has the feeling that the professor _hates_ him due to naturally being a over-analytic, pompous prick. And so, Bill submitted "The Dark" to a magazine and received highly acclaimed praise. Last week before break, Bill dropped the class and send "The Dark" to a magazine publication and commentary to his ex-professor. 

He hopes it _stings_ like a motherfucker.

There's a pool in the back of the sorority house, gushing out white soapy suds onto the granite patio-floor and into the kitchen. Drunk girls in drawstring bikinis and padded, cleavage-bursting bras jump in. One or two attempted to grab Bill's ankle playfully as he passes. He's in denim jeans. A brightly colored windbreaker not meant for swimming.

Bill sips on a red cup of beer, keeping to himself, noticing a young woman sidling up to him. 

Ironed straight, black hair. Cute dimples. Her long and purple fingernails drag over Bill's forearm on the railing. 

"_Mmm_… what's your name?" she asks, smirking.

He opens his mouth, indecisive about wanting to politely declining her company or be friendly.

Richie stumbles in, wigless and slipping off the prismatic, pastel sunglasses. His features tight. Bill honestly wasn't expecting Richie to be so _attractive_ without them. "He's spoken for, Peaches," Richie trills, plastering on a smile like Bill's friend had.

She recognizes him, huffing and adjusts her breasts in her low-cut top.

"They're _melons_."

"… that's what she thinks," Richie mutters, waiting until she's stormed off. Bill's mouth twitches up. Guess that saves him a decision. Richie chugs a little of his beer bottle, smacking his lips and giving Bill a purposeful once-over. "You look familiar."

"We met earlier." Bill replies, getting warm in the face, "You were, _uhh_, carrying the boombox."

"No shit, dude. I meant I know you somehow." Richie _hmms_, propping up an arm next to Bill's. "Did we ever screw around?"

"Think I'd know."

A _pfftt!_

Richie's eyes go wide with skepticism. "Dude, trust me," he mutters. "With enough alcohol… you can forget _anything_ you want…" Richie unceremoniously pours the rest of his beer into Bill's drink. "I'm Richie, if nobody's told you yet."

"Bill."

"_Bill_?" It could just be because Richie said it, but Bill thinks he's familiar too. He can't think of how. "Alright. I can work with that."

"You said I was spoken for…"

"You are." Richie sends him a cheeky, sly look. "You _could_ be. No pressure."

"I like… women," Bill admits, wincing internally. Even saying it aloud sounds fake. He's so dumb.

The pink, slick tip of Richie's tongue peeks between his lips. Bill sternly keeps his eyes from staring. "Oh, _sure_," he replies, calmly, tapping a finger over Bill's nose mischievously. "Whatever tickles your pickle, Big Bill. Night."

And he vanishes, lily white and infuriatingly attractive.

_ Oh boy. _

*


End file.
